Halo: Behind Enemy Lines
by Izuna-Suspect
Summary: As the war with the covenant rages on, the insurrection a terrorist cell formed in the outer colonies, steals a secret prototype weapon, now is up to a battle hardened squad to retrieve it. The weapon could mean the very turning tide of the war...
1. Prologue: Whispers Among the Stars

**Halo: Behind Enemy Lines**

**Prologue**

March 21st, 2550, UNSC The Comedian, Orbit of Reach.

Inside her quarters, Captain Helena Du Point stared at her console; she lazily tapped on the screen while waiting for her contact to log in. It was boring, but being part of the ONI (Office of Naval Intelligence) had its privileges. The communication system was far more accessible and faster to use; still her contact always seemed to take pleasure in making her wait. But Spooks were certainly something mysterious, even for her, recent graduate from the Officer Candidate School on Luna, and then reassigned to this ship, a prowler of the ONI the Comedian. As she was speculating and wondering in her thoughts, letters came to live on the screen of her personal computer terminal. The contact had finally decided to show its nose to her.

\\ UNSC OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE

\\ CLASSIFIED TRANSMISSION [.PRTCL-1A]

SENT: [CODENAME: WHITE COLLAR]

RECEIVED: [Du Point. V.690300 (S1)]

"My bad captain, transmission sequences weren't good at my location."

"No need to apologize Sir, in our days you can't be more secure." reassured the young woman her contact.

"Enough with the formalities, Captain. You found the squad I'm looking for?"

"I did, Sir. I have with high recommendations, four of the best SPECWAR Operatives"

"Good, I'm pleased to hear such good news. Do you have their dossiers?"

"Yes, Sir, I'll begin the transmission once the line is secure."

Captain du Point leaned back in her chair and thought for a moment, her hand cupping her chin. A short silence passed before the so called WHITE COLLAR, talked again.

"Any psychological report on them?" he finally asked thoughtfully.

"Just the leader, he has a mild case of PSD, or at least the symptoms, but he's good to go Sir."

"Name and service number?"

"Roman, M O5614-63759-MR"

"Yes, he checks out, get to the ship they're stationed, brief them."

"Yes, Sir I will."

""Oh... and, Captain, please, have a little delicacy on? You'll tell them."

-TRANSCRIPT COMPLETE\

Restraint? WHITE COLLAR was clearly insane. The mission he had made up, especially for her, didn't have anything that allowed any delicacy in the context. But there was a Spook to you. They don't care for other soldiers, as long they achieve his goals. To them troopers, like the ones she hand-picked for over four-hundred squads, to send them to the grinder, were replaceable merchandise. Most of them would die, if not all. You needed major luck and skill to get through their orders.

But this was a war, a war they were losing, a war they were barely putting a fight, and in such times, feeling pity for those newbs was uncalled and unnecessary. Sacrifices were necessary and inevitable.

Yes they will do, she told herself, they'll have to, because this mission could mean more than a few covenants killed. It could mean the very turning point of this ongoing war. She knew it had to be done. But how many more had to die for it?

Straightening her back and placing the console on the table in front of her, Captain du Point logged in again. She checked the Career Service Vitae of the squad leader, a veteran of the war with almost thirteen years of war experience, up. He had seen many battles, including the siege of the Atlas Moons and the battle of Dhaka and the fall of the Vergasso Colony world. She fully opened the file, discovering a photo of a young man which was at least in his early twenties, with a spark on his dark brown eyes. His hair was jet black, slightly over regulation but well combed to hide it. His skin complexion was fair and his body building didn't reveal much about his strength nor weakness.

More impressive than his battle record, were his commendations,having received several medals for heroism, gallantry and even a Red Legion of Honor, for having risked his life to save thirty civilians held captive by the Covenant. Many would consider that someone with those commendations would be an officer, maybe a Spook like her, but he had rejected those offers. Du Point couldn't help but wonder why he had refused such opportunities which would not only have given him fame, but also many facilities and advantages of which she disposed of. She decided that she'd ask him why he had decided to follow the trail of a soldier instead of taking the path of a higher up.

The real problem and question in this whole story, was WHITE COLLAR himself. No one was able to tell her anything about his real personality, nor about his whereabouts. He (if it was indeed a man) was shrouded in mystery and hidden behind large stains of ink on his Career Service Vitae or his general information file. It wouldn't surprise her if he was indeed just one of the many aliases of a higher up, as some rumors and speculations had let her know.

Many heard that he had killed an insubordinate soldier for the single reason that he had ordered an orbital strike against covenant forces in an area where many UNSC soldiers where retreating. His cold-blooded methods seemed to be too much for the standards of the ONI, but his effectiveness was undeniable and impossible to overlook and thus he had been impossible to be removed. But the biggest problem was the fact that no one from that single battle had remembered his face or was alive to remember it; it was as if he had vanished in thin air and appeared randomly behind a screen from time to time to inform people of his future moves.

With a sigh, she closed the file of Roman and closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead in a nervous manner. She just hoped she wouldn't regret the moment she picked the troopers out when she had met them face to face, nor that she accepted to follow WHITE COLLAR's direct orders….

But regrets wouldn't matter anymore once she left here, the little safe corner of the universe, where she could let her thoughts wander without any consequence. She finally let her back relax and she leaned her face on her crossed arms on the table. There were going to be few eventful moments in her nearest future.


	2. Chapter 1: Rude Awaking

**Chapter**** One**

April 25th, 2550, UNSC You Only Live Once, Unknown Slip-space Coordinate.

The haze of the cryo-pod was clearing, as Mark opened his eyes for the first time in four weeks. He tried to get up, ignoring the chill that his body felt. He sat down in his pod as he coughed the bronchial sufficient enzyme, used to replace the entire nutrients lost during the cryo sleep; he hated it, considering being only a lime-flavored mucus, flavor he detested to a great extend. He hadn't realized but the entire cryo chamber was completely dark. Was no one awake? Or did the computer make any error in his wake up time?

It didn't matter much to him, his first concern being getting a shower and get some clean and fresh clothes, instead of the sweat sticky jumpsuit he had to wear while being put in the lethargic sleep. Switching the light on, he recognized the room a little, remembering little by little his environments, the rubberized floor, high ceilings and walls that held dozens of cryo-pods and directed himself to the showers.

Opening the tab once he was undressed, he didn't bother checking if there was any warm water; the cold shower didn't bother him, being too concentrated on his thoughts. Getting out of this freezing box of a cryo-bed was a relief; he hated the feeling of entering in this dreamless sleep and waking up from it. And well, being an ODST (Orbital Drop Shock Trooper) meant that even a cold icy shower was a luxury that he had to refuse himself and his men for many times.

After the shower he went to his locker, his regular citizen clothes were stored in a tidy fashion; he just pulled out a black shirt, gray fatigues and boots. It was nothing flashy nor following any sort of trend; more a random assortiment of basic clothing with discreet and neutral colors. Nothing fancy, no designs on the shirt, no silver spikes on the jeans, no necklaces or any other jewelry covered him. He liked it simple.

After dressing he took a walk in the ships many empty halls, not deciding on a specific destination. The lights hadn't been turned on yet; he guessed it was still night time on the ship.

Suddenly a female voice was heard through the speakers.

"Gunnery Sergeant Roman, please direct yourself to briefing room A-16, the captain will meet you there".

A-16? That was in the officers' quarters area, and why would the captain talk to a grub like him? Not that he had done something bad recently. Recently being the main word here; he didn't like following ridiculously long orders filled with non-sense and rather followed his instinct and got directly to the point without any fancy manners. That way of executing orders wasn't exactly appreciated by the higher-ups. As if he cared.

Mark navigated through the ship entering to the officer quarter area.

You could tell the difference between the common quarters he shared with his squad mates and those of the ranked ones. The rooms were probably bigger and certainly fewer than the ones on his floor. And it was certainly looking cleaner and less feeling like "home".

It seemed that the hall would never end until he finally arrived to the briefing room. He entered the dark cavernous; no one was inside waiting for him. Was someone pulling a joke at him? Frowning, he walked back to the door; it better not be a joke he just simply wasn't on the mood. The lights of the room came to life, blinding him.

"What the... Who's there? Skipper is that you?"

Behind him a soft voice answered his question. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not the captain" said a slender black haired woman.He stared at her; she wore a gray Navy uniform with the ONI insignia.'Damn, a Spook.' he thought.

She sat in front of him and giving him a better look of her face, her deep blue and icy eyes seemingly being chillier than the cryo-tubes themselves. Her hair was cleanly tied in a pony tail. She was clearly a few years younger than her, maybe in her mid-twenties and was indeed quite beautiful.

He immediately straightened his back and saluted her. She seemed to be around her twenties, her blue eyes showing an inexperience and innonce only found in newly graduated. Her skin was fair and her height average, almost small. But he wasn't fooled; after all, military graduates, ranked or not, weren't accepted without a minimum training.

For a few seconds she ignored him, looking with indifference her data pad and the other documents she held on her other hand. Suddenly, she seemed to remember his presence and cleared her throat.

"At ease soldier. Make yourself comfortable." she greeted him while showing him a chair at the other end of the meeting table. Once the man was sitting, she started speaking again, keeping her voice on a calm and relaxed tone. "Gunnery Sergeant, so you might be asking yourself why the hell I summoned you here?" she said while staring at him.

"Among other things, ma'am yes, I'd like to know indeed what am I doing here?"

"My name is Captain Helena Du Point and for the record Sergeant, you're in no trouble… yet." She paused for a minute and took her speech up again. "But I'm also here to inform you, that you've being assigned to a top priority mission, you and your squad that is."

A mission for ONI? He just had some bad memories from the last time he had participated in one of these ONI black ops. And now his squad was also involved? What were those people up to? He certainly wasn't going to let the plan "suicide mission for my pals" enter his agenda.

"You seem to be concerned Sergeant." she noticed. "Be assured that the mission will be well paid and that you and you're squad are only going in a torch and burn up."

She seemed to convincing that for a second he almost believed her. But knowing ONI Spooks from his previous experiences, she was hiding more information than she was willing to tell.

"Torch and Burn Op you say ma'am? With all your respect I don't believe it resumes to only that." He made a pause to choose his words carefully. "I've been in this kind of missions before, and the casualty rate in this mission is quite high, so spare me of that speech. I have seen my men fall before my own eyes before, even though "all security measurements were taken"."

She smiled, like if she had made a right choice about something. Triumph and new found determination were also readable on her face. "Well sergeant it seems that lying to you will not have any effect at all. Actually it seems you're the right man for the job, thank goodness." She got up towards the screen initiating what it seemed to be blueprints and test data. Mark noticed that she was a little shaky and guessed that she was new on the job.

"I wanted to tell you this first, before waking the rest of the squad. It is rather important, so listen well; I won't repeat myself." She took a shaky breath before continuing. "The Insurrection have capture schematics and important tactical data about the NOVA project. Which is a disaster and a bad image of our security systems and surveiliance. It's already bad we have to fight the Covenant with the Innie getting their sloppy hands into something as powerful and important like this, and in the current state of the war against the Covenant, is imperative that we get all that data back. Otherwise, there is no return or winning point left over for us. But I suppose you already understand that."

She didn't have to remind him about the current state of the war, he had seen dozens of world's battlefields, thousand killed, and other horrors that can be found in the world of guns and blood. Against the more numerous and technologically advanced Covenant there were few things the soldiers on the ground could do, as every minor victory in ground turned to be a major defeat on space.

She probably knew why he had joined the Marine Corps at the age of sixteen, as an orphan of the war, he wanted revenge. His parents had died when a covenant fleet glassed the colony world of Charybdis IX, he barely left in the last transport and found himself on an orphanage in Luna, then he took the first chance he had and joined the Corps. Over the course of thirteen years he fought as hard as he could, seeing many comrades die in front of him. Images that haunted him to this very end and filling his nights full of cruel reminders of the dead.

"Ma'am if I can help the UNSC, I will do everything in my best of abilities." He got up and stared at her "But why me and my squad for this? There are many other recommended men out there, who would probably be more suited for this mission."

She just gave another approving smile and chuckled.

"Because, you and your squad are the best and because I know you won't fail Sergeant".

And the subject was left upon that.


	3. Chapter 2: Back in the Saddle

**Chapter**** Two**

April 27th, 2550, UNSC You Only Live Once, Unknown Slip-space Coordinate.

Helena stood in front of them; the squad she had picked for this specific mission. She was nervous, it was her first team under her responsibility. In simulations and when she was still studying under the higher ups, it all seemed so easy. But now, it was nerve wracking: fear of failing kept on grazing her thoughts.

For the past half an hour she briefed them on the objectives on the mission. All the details, necessary data and charts were put on the table, to show Roman that she was playing cards open; there was no need to attract any sort of animosity or suspicions that would ruin the whole plan. She also explained that it was going to be a deep surveillance-extraction mission, where failure was not an option nor a possibility that the higher ups would accept.

As Du Point went on explaining the situation, she could get a brief grasp on at least three members attitudes towards the mission; they kept on concentrated faces, not letting a single trace of worry or preoccupation hinder their thoughts. The last one, a baby-faced soldier, had something unsettling about him: he seemed excited, no, awaiting for the future violence and adventure that the mission would bring them. He was the youngest, no doubt, big brown eyes filled with sparks and messy blonde hair framing his round face. He was on the small size compared to the other males she had seen so far, probably not being taller than 165 centimeters tall. She wondered vaguely if that wasn't against the height protocol to be accepted as soldier. His skin was pale, almost too pale, sign that he spent too much time in cyro-sleep lately. He had a long and narrow chin she noticed, giving him an air of Mister-knows-it-all.  
From what she had read, he was the team's sniper, having earned him the nickname of the "Eagle's Eye". Fairly impressive if you counted his age and time in the Marine Corps , which were respectively 22 and 5 years.

"Any questions about the operation then?" She finally asked, hoping she could finally conclude the topic.

"Yeah I got one." said the baby-faced one of the team. He had a mischievous smile on his lips. "In our flight, do we get one meal or two?"

She just gave him bland look as an answer, irritation clearly noticeable on her face. She was nor interested, nor willing and nor did she any time to deal with pranks and jokes. At least she knew Sergeant Roman and Corporal Bakker would put him back in his respectful place.

"Private Thomas Grimm."

"Yes, Ma'am? ~"

"You'll be free to read the details of the mission once this meeting is over."

As response, Thomas pouted, crossing his arms, giving him the look of a child. If Du Point hadn't been trained, she would have giggled at him.

On the squad there was only a woman, a long brown haired young woman that went with the name of Corporal Madeleine Bakker. Physically she seemed the weakest of the squad and also the loudest one with her continuous reminders to Grimm and Roman about their manners and rude language. But something told her that she could clearly kick the asses of all three males; heck the fact that she was known as "Bossa Nova", name given by all newbs she had trained and met. Her gray eyes showed nothing more than confidence many women in the armed services seemed to lack. She possessed some sort of angular beauty that in some ways reminded to her mother. Her hands betrayed how hard she worked; stitches covered her fingers and the back of her hand and a large burn wound covered the palm of her right hand. She was a medical expert, her dossier informed, along with a great negotiator. No wonder that she was the one who kept on arguing with Roman about what would be best or not for the team.

"Thomas, do us a favor and shut up." snapped the Corporal at the youngster, giving him a glare.

"Yeah, yeah, sure mom~" replied Grimm with a chuckle.

The woman seemed satisfied with that reply and did not give him a second glance.

Finally she gazed the last member of the team, Lance Corporal Djimon Sokora, the giant of the team with his two meters height. His physique was augmented by the bulkier ODST armor; he reminded her of a picture of a samurai dating of the sixteenth century, covered with the thick armor it wore. His brown eyes transmitted some serenity she'd never seen. It was rare for a soldier to accept it's fate and the blood it had on it's hands. He had a strong jaw and serene eyes. Not even the running scar over his right eye seemed to bother him. His dark skin seemed to reflect from his other squad mates for some reason; he was the only one to have non European origins it seemed.

"Ma'am will we have any extraction?" asked Sokora with a deep rumbling voice.

"Actually we will, UNSC Prowler The Comedian, will act as our rescue ship once the mission objectives are achieved." she answered while focusing on the documents that she went through on her notepad. "Well if there aren't any other questions, get your gear prepared, we drop off in two hours precise."

And the Captain Du Point saluted the four soldiers, turned around and left the room, the doors sliding open and closed without a sound. Once she was far enough in the hallway, she leaned against the wall, sighed loudly and rubbed her eyes tiredly. She was slowly calming down, her erratic heartbeat slowing down. This was going to be her first combat sortie ever.

She felt like she had just passed the portals of hell.

-oOo-

Thirty minutes before drop, all of the squad were gathered in one of the armories near the ODST pod bays. Prepared and fully clothed in their ODST armors, they made certainly a good impression of fully-fledged soldiers, ready for battle. Their armors seemed to be scratched, with the titanium-ceramic composite plates that made up the armor scorched by plasma hits, the only parts of the armor that didn't seem to be "used" were the helmets and the black polymer under suit of the armor; those had to be replaced after each battle. All of them carried an armored rucksack and ammo pouches. Du Point was sure she could see food peeking out of that of Private Grimm. She decided not to say a word about it. Action that proved to be the right one later on, when Caporal Bakker hit the baby-face on the head for taking useless material on their journey.

She also used an ODST armor, but her variation seemed different from the standard the squad used, the under suit being the only resemblance. The chest plate was replaced with a specialized one, to provide stealth capabilities with little or no loss of endurance. The torso part of the armor also varied from the standard version, having a green, translucent orb in the center. There were no shoulder plates with this variant, which allows more freedom of the arm movement but also giving her a certain handicap of being hit more easily.

"Ma'am…I'm sorry to ask you this, but, are you ok?" asked someone behind her.

She turned around to see who it was only to find sergeant Roman alone standing in front of her. She didn't notice his presence until now, the angular traits and strong jaw he had seemingly sharper with the bad light. His black hair was on regulation, to the contrary of that of Thomas and his brown eyes were full of a strong sense of commitment to his squad. The bulky armor did nothing more to make him more physically imposing that he was already in his fatigues; The only default she could find on his fair skin was a light scar on his cheek.

She suddenly realized that she had been shivering and wringing her hands in worry and angst. Quickly, she stopped the motion and placed her hands behind her back, biting her lip to distract her from trembling like a leaf.

"What did you say sergeant? I must be thinking something else..." she asked with an awkward smile.

"If you're ok Ma'am, I'll speak freely…" he started and continued after having gotten the approving nod from Helena. "Look the thing is I gotta protect you, so we watch each others back and do this with all we got. We have no time for tourists nor incapables."

He handed her a gun, the captain immediately recognizing the model M6C/SOCOM, whisper silent but with armor piercing rounds. She liked his choice.

"I got it sergeant, no need to tell me that." she mumbled while grabbing four clips of the M6. God, how she felt like a total noob right now.

She was the rest of the squad arming themselves up, Madeleine and Mark both taking a M6 but also an M7S Sub-Machine Gun. Short but reliable weapons. Both of them had apparently a similar battle pattern and style. Thomas was expecting a rifle with a long barrel, the 99M-SD-AM Sniper rifle and Djimon inserted the drum on a M247H Medium Machine Gun. All of them seemed concentrated in a well rehearsed symphony of preparatory clicks special units always made before a mission. And with surprise and satisfaction, they seemed to know each other's needs and habits, helping each other from time to time.

They left the ammunition storage room and with a decided pace she leads them to one of the drop pod bays. Inside of it there were SOEIVs (Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicles), informally known as HEV (Human Entry Vehicle), these angular pods were approximately nine feet in length, a span of eight feet and a height of eighteen feet. Inside there was only a single seat, communication gear, numerous equipment racks and rudimentary controls. But unlike other SOEIVs this one only had a single window.

"This is a long range version of the pods, it has a special coating that makes it invisible to radar, and it can be launch from slip-space." she said. The others looked at her with some amazement but with a great deal of fear, as no one could predict slip-space. She could understand them in that point, not fully grasping the whole processes either.

"Sarge, she's gotta be joking us, is a suicide mission from the beginning." Thomas said with a faint fear in on his voice. "There's no way we're going to survive this-"

"Thomas shut up, you've got your orders, get your gear set and your ass on that pod… Now." Mark said while raising his voice. Thomas grunted something about "Insufferable kamikaze" and started to put in place his equipment. The rest followed and in matter of seconds she was also sitting in her own pod with her helmet on. She was taken by surprise when the hatch suddenly closed and the air equalized, gripping tightly the controls of her pod. Her fate was now decided, there was no way back possible anymore.

"Everybody is ready, Ma'am." said Mark through the COM (Communication Network).

"Good, everybody just hang on." She changed the frequency and contacted the captain of the You Only Live Once. "Captain we're ready for drop-off, fire on the ready, Sir."

A warm voice responded. "Roger that, Good Luck out there"

She heard several clanks and then the entire pod vibrated as they left the ship. Then blackness, utter blackness, for at least four hours, having no one's company except her own. She closed her eyes and once again gripped the controls.

The only thought that crossed her mind was a wish for her survival.


	4. Chapter 3: The Rebel Colony

**Chapter**** Three**

April 28th, 2550, Unknown Slip-space Coordinates, En route to New Cantabria Rebel Colony.

The pod shook violently as if in any second could start to fall apart. Even so Mark kept his calm; this was no different than the regular drop pods the ODSTs used to assault high valued targets. He hoped the other members for this mission were doing well in their own pod. But he couldn't be sure of anything; slip-space was wild and unpredictable, which was the only thing they could predict in such voyages. Even the best technology and physicist of the UNSC couldn't resolve to accurately pinpoint trajectories and many times, ships came from normal space a million kilometers from they were supposed to re-appear. But everyone who used slip-space had to admit that it was damn handy after all, reducing many costs and some other risks as the ones of being attacked on their way to their destination.

As the minutes passed, Mark reviewed once again the mission detail in his mind. Once he knew what he wanted to see exactly, he made the information start to display themselves on his helmet VISR Database. The first thing he noted and complimented was how much navigation and data Captain Du Point had gathered, making him wonder how long it had taken to assemble all of it and to make a clear database of it. Of course, she hadn't do the work on her own, but considering that she was the head of the mission, it had been up to her to contact the necessary informants, create the networks that would be assembling the information and finally organize and recognize the truth in all the data that would come in. And it was rare to see a rapport without any rubbish or non-sense.  
But there was one thing that bothered him: the lack of information about the reports and rumors of Jackal ships being in the area. Had she been unable to get anything interesting about that matter? Even so, she would have included the rapports in the mission's database...The question Mark was asking himself right now was if the rebels were dealing with the enemy?

If that was the case, then the mission got more complicated and would have more risks added to the ones that had already been mentioned. The man's mind vaguely questioned Du Point's motives and the possibility of an eventual betrayal. He had discovered her as a smart and sly woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to get it. It could be a possibility that she hadn't added the information about the Jackals because she had seen it as irrelevant or that she would be using them as the necessary sacrifices for this mission. If that was the case, he would still have appreciated it if she told them about it. That way less misunderstandings would be possible as well a better cooperation and planning for him and his men (and woman).  
In either case, if they found Jackals, they could fight evenly. But experience told him that there was never smoke without a fire and that if a covenant bastard was there, more were near. And if they had to face Elites, they would have real troubles.

He shook his head, stopping his mind from over thinking about the whole situation. Focus on the mission, he told himself. He would deal with this as soon as they landed.

The silence in the pod was heavy and minutes seemed to be hours when suddenly the transport shook harder and in a fading blue flash warned him that they were entered normal space. He sighed in relief when he saw that his pod had dodged a meteor shower. As he checked to see if the other pods had come out of the slip-space, he gave a thought about the luck they just had. Coming out of slip-space, behind a meteor shower was now a plus for this mission. All the pods checked in, including that of the Captain; once it would be possible, he would ask question and she answer to them. And that meant that he'd have to wait until they landed; protocol ordered him not to transmit such important matters through the radio. You never knew what for people would be listening to it. And being intercepted on such matters could risk the mission's success and his men's lives.

Minutes later the pods plummeted to the planet, following the trail of the burning meteors. From the orbit the planet looked almost earth-like. Vast blue oceans, deserts and icy white mountain ranges surrounded by large green forests. Almost something of a picture, as the fire engulfed the pod; he took time to see the beautiful scene from the only window of his pod. Of all the worlds he had seen since he became a soldier, this had to be in the top five, with planet Reach being the eternal number one.

As the flames that engulfed the pod died and the pod shook one last time, reminding how the travelling in slip space before landing. Many who did the first drop would soil their pants, but by now he was used to it, loving the rush of adrenaline that he felt as the pod fell rapidly to the ground. He tightly gripped the steering controls, out of pure habit than necessity, as the pod's computer calculated the trajectory and best landing zone. Though, you never knew. It was better if he could correct the course manually in any second.

As the ground came ever closer, Mark could see in vivid detail a large valley that was crossed by a river and a large forest. The mountains of the valley were capped with recently fallen snow, which reflected the the light of the planet's suns. In mere seconds the pod's computer activated the rockets to slow down the fall, and the drag-chute was deployed instantly softening the fall even more. Then in what seemed to be a split second the pod crash landed in a clearing in the forest with a lot of noise and damage to the ground it had reached. The pod's hatch slowly opened, and Mark took down his M6C, letting his eyes scan the area in front of him. It was clear.

He stepped out of the pod and began 'unpacking', aka gathering his gear. As he did so, another pod touched down near his position, the ripped off grass and roots flying around him and landing on him and in the pod. Once he had stripped down the ammo and rations out of his pod, he placed a demo-charge in it, standard procedure to ensure nothing fell in enemy's hands during an infiltration operation. Once he had made sure everything was secured and that he was ready, the leader quickly moved through the trees and located the other pod; it had crashed on top large stones, giving some damage to the transport middle, having scratched the paint off. As he came closer to the pod, the hatch opened and a slender figure in a special ODST armor emerged from it, the steps and moves of the person being a little shaky. It was Captain Du Point. She noticed him immediately, her sharp eyes not missing a single detail of what happened around her. Miss Hawkeye would have been an accurate name for her, really.

"Sergeant, it's good to find that you made It." she said with her usual cool tone, seemingly undisturbed from her rather rough landing. "Have the others checked in?"

"Not yet, Ma'am… But I haven't checked on them yet." he replied while she started to retrieve her gear.

"Then by all means contact them Sergeant, we can't waste our time." Du Point said, as she came walking to him, ready for action and looking slightly annoyed with the fact he hadn't contacted anyone yet.

"Yes ma'am." Mark replied with a vague salute and quickly switched to the encrypted channel. "Maddy, you there?"

The first response he got was just noises and interferences. Then in the noise slowly disappeared and heard something close to someone tried to re-establish the connection. He repeated the message again until someone finally answered him.

"Work dammit..." he suddenly heard the familiar voice mutter. He chuckled and the woman at the other side of the line immediately got back to her usual stern and serious attitude, replying to his message. 

"Mark, I copy you loud and clear, my comlink was busted from the landing, but it should be alright by now." She sounded relieved to know he had made it. Madeleine might be a frightening woman by times and never seem perturbed by anything gruesome that could happen in front of her, but she was always worried about her teammates, how bothersome they could be. It was sort of reassuring to know that someone was always caring 24/7, especially when your nerves were about to snap from the tension.  
"Is the Captain with you?"

"Yeah she is, we were about to go scout and set a rendezvous point. You, go find the guys and tell them that they have to remain close to you. And if they don't, you have the right to kick their asses." He was glad she was safe, but he knew that she was tougher than him, resisting to the biggest hells that a human could face. And that he didn't have any reason to second guess her.  
Mark could imagine her grin like a mad man at the other side of the micro, from the prospect of kicking some idiots around. Something close to a smile appeared on his lips for a second, only to disappear and the normal, serious line that his lips made, to come back. "Take care Maddy, see you on the other side, out."

"Yeah, yeah, see you in the other side Mark, out." she replied curtly and the connection died.

"Well, at least we know Corporal Bakker is doing well." Du Point said while staring at him through the depolarized face plate of her helmet, an eyebrow raised from the familiar and relaxed language that had been used in the conversation. "I saw a small post not far from here. We can set a rendezvous point there."

And upon those words, she started to lead the way, not leaving him the time to add anything to the conversation.  
Both of them moved without making a sound, only with an occasional stop for her to check the surroundings or when an unusual move ahead of them made them prepare to fire, only to find a stray wild animal being busy with whatever it was soing. He took a minute to wonder about the trees of the forest, they reminded him about the forest of Earth and Reach, bringing old, happy memories back. Suddenly she stopped, crouching down and holding her fist high above her head.

"We got two tangos ahead; I got eyes on the post." she said coolly as ever, seeming undisturbed or worried by what was ahead of them. Two enemy soldiers were ahead, both of them having a tall stature and dressed in jungle combat garbs. It was highly possible that they were out to scout patrol. Both men held a pair of outdated but powerful .30 caliber machine guns, dubbed confetti makers for their powerful stopping power and armor piercing capabilities. Both soldiers were talking and taking a smoke break 

The captain made a signal which clearly meant "Tap them out, sergeant." Mark nodded and sneaked closer to the enemy. From his helmet HUD he could now see the outlines of the enemy soldiers.

He pulled out his M6C and black combat knife, preparing for his attack. He took cover behind a tree, a few feet to the left of the two enemies. He now could clearly hear them talking and the smoke of the cigarette was even more visible.. He tightly gripped both the knife and handgun, taking a last deep breath and slipped the last distance between them without making a sound.  
"Hey, Suzy!"  
It was his trademark yell before attacking and couldn't help himself from using it over and over again, loving the reaction from the opponent whenever they heard it. Mark sprinted towards both of the soldiers, who once they heard the exclamation looked into his direction, raising their guns. But it was too late: Mark, with a swift slashing motion from his knife, had already slit the throat of the closest soldier, then had risen his M6C/SOCOM, aiming without hesitation and pulled his trigger, that in a whisper quiet second ended the life of the second soldier by a shot in his forehead. The bodies fell down with a dull sound, blood staining the green of the grass and bushes, arms and legs placed in awkward positions, one shoulder having broken from the impact against a stone on which the first soldier had landed.

"Tangos down." he reported, after having made sure both enemies were dead. Then, Du Point finally made her entrance on the scene, aiming her gun towards the corpses. At first, he felt somewhat vexed from that gesture that seemed to show her distrust towards him. But when he noticed the slight trembling of her hands, even as her faceplate was polarized he knew her eyes were darting from one body to the other, he could tell her discomfort. Perhaps they were the first humans she had seen killed in such a cold blooded fashion. Kills, no murders, she had ordered to happen.

"Sergeant... I think we found our rendezvous point." She said after a deep, shaky breath to regain her composure.

"I agree Ma'am, I'll send the coordinates." Mark said after dragging the bodies behind some trees. Once he was done with that, he contacted the rest of the team.  
"Cupcake, you found the boys?"

"Don't call me that." Madeleine snarled back, making him grin innerly. "And yes, they're still intact, thank god. Did you find the meeting point? And-"  
Thomas interrupted her, babbling about something in the background, which he couldn't understand. She snapped something back at the younger soldier, which he couldn't understand either, making him guess that he had made her life impossible already. He rolled his eyes at the usual "Yes, mom" from the technophile of the squad and the insult that slipped from Maddy's lips.

"Yeah, I'll send you the coordinates." he quickly replied before the fight went on. "Meet you and the guys in twenty minutes and please do shut up."  
And upon that, he shut the transmission line down and send the information without any other delay. Talking to a pissed off Maddy wasn't something pleasant. And having to face an angry Maddy was even less fun.  
All he could to now was waiting in silence. He plopped down on a root of a tree that reached his waist, giving himself some sort of rest before any more action. Du Point for her part seemed to want to spill her energy into pacing in circles like a caged bear. Mark looked up to the sky, admiring the blueness of it. Soon, very soon, they would be storming that post. The real mission had just started.


End file.
